


For Your Entertainment

by grumpyowls



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hipsters, Inspired by Music, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyowls/pseuds/grumpyowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU setting. Thor and Loki meet at a club and have a one night stand. Except things never really go as planned for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> A quick fic that was sort of inspired by [this song](http://youtu.be/IsPFDzAGb4A). Obviously that's where the title came from, too. As per the usual with shit I write, no beta and I proofread before bedtime. Errors are probably in here. Also posted on [tumblr](http://assguarding.tumblr.com/post/20334257207/for-your-entertainment). Also-squared, this is set in some ambiguous hipster verse that I can't seem to get away from.

The heavy bass of the music shakes the veins under his skin. Hairs on his arms vibrating and his heart thumping in time to the beat—pounding like it created the melody itself. He can’t stand this kind of shitty music, everything sounds the same. A giant cacophony of noise that holds no substance. By now he expects nothing more or nothing less from these places, but that doesn’t stop him from going. Ironically enjoying the time spent in the club.  
  
Brightly colored lights flash over the dance floor—bodies covered in a sheen of sweat and pheromones. Each one moving and gyrating with one another in fleeting harmony. Meeting just for the song—or if they’re lucky—just for the night. This isn’t the sort of place Thor frequents, and against his better judgment (when he does have it—which is extremely rare) he accepted the invite out from his friends. Something about tonight feels different. Tonight, he feels _electric_. It’s crackling under his skin like an oncoming thunderstorm.  
  
Somewhere along the way he loses track of Tony and Steve. Not a big deal, sort of expected. Knows enough by now that he’s not going to go looking for them either. …Not after last time. It had taken Steve _three weeks_ before he could look Thor in the face without blushing. And it hadn’t even been anything _that_ scandalous! Knowing Tony, it could have been _much_ worse. Clint had long since disappeared into a throng of attractive women and Thor knew just from the wink thrown back in his direction that he wouldn’t turn back up until some time tomorrow. Probably; if that. He’s been left to his own devices—which typically spells nothing but trouble. Especially with all the drinks he’s had tonight. (Thor would like to think that just _lends_ as an assistant to all his good choices, however.) As his eyes scan the floor and the beat changes with a new song, he thinks that maybe he wantsa little trouble. And it definitely seems to be heading his way.  
  
Tall, lean and dark with mischief in his eyes—he’s there, suddenly. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden, but Thor feels like it was. Almost as if he skulked out of the elongated shadows cast by the candy colored lights. He thinks nothing of it as they begin to move together, thinks it’s just his imagination that he feels a spark when this mystery dancer snakes his arm around Thor’s neck. Draws them closer so their foreheads nearly touch. Distantly, he thinks he’s seen him around campus before, but at this time of night and with all that alcohol, he can’t really recall. Later he’ll think of it— _Loki_ —but for now, as usual, he remains blissfully unaware.

Even in the dim light, Thor can see his eyes are green and still so _very_ much alight with deviousness. It sends a feeling tingling across his entire body—he hasn’t felt this in a long time. Or if he has, he can’t remember. And that doesn’t speak well for his past relationships and flings, does it? There’s a ringing in his ears that isn’t from the music and a light, a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that flutters like a butterfly. For a guy like him, that seems slightly outlandish. Fluttering feelings like he’s still in grade school. If he was the sort, he would admonish himself for having such thoughts.  
  
But, he’s not.   
  
So, he isn’t.  
  
Thor’s eyes narrow slightly, watching Loki move, feeling each sway of hips beneath his hands; darken a little as Loki slinks around him, with his hands passing over Thor’s body but never staying too long in one place. Like some sort of hellacious torture. Then he’s back in front of him and they’re fit together like the last remaining pieces of a puzzle. Pressed so flush that Thor can’t tell if the thumping is the music or their hearts beating together. Maybe it’s both.  
  
The song continues, the beat guiding their movements so easily it feels like they’ve done this before. Hips rolling against hips, each limb settling into a perfect position to complement the other. Arms draped around a neck or the small of a back; possessive decoration. Thor’s leg fits between Loki’s and he grinds against his thigh. There’s a catch in both their breaths—each one feeling it there against his lips.  
  
Eyes lock. The song nearly over but the night has just begun. It is anyone’s guess as to who moves first, closing that small gap and taking a kiss. Lips parting immediately, tongues sliding together in a show of dominance. A thing neither one want to relinquish. Excitement and dangerous all rolled into one little neat package. A package that has a timebomb set to explode if the right trigger is switched. There’s a line being tread on and Thor can’t find it in himself to worry about that now.  
  
——-  
  
They take a cab back to Thor’s place, barely separating enough to get out of the club. Hands exploring new places, lips barely breaking apart to breathe. Each kiss is brash and hurried, like they somehow just can’t get enough. And maybe they can’t. Thor doesn’t flinch at or even notice the stares they get as they leave; Loki does and he likes it, plays it up more than necessary. It’s good, he thinks, that Thor is so simple that he doesn’t realize and just enjoys each stroke of tongue and pass of lips across his mouth or his neck.  
  
No mind is paid to the driver as Loki slinks over to straddle Thor’s lap. _He doesn’t care_ _._ And when he rocks against Thor (it was a bump in the road, don’t be silly, he didn’t do that intentionally) he can _feel_ that Thor doesn’t care much either. Their lips slide together, fitting so perfectly. They don't understand, but can't be bothered to question why it feels so right. So, they choose not to think about it at all. Thor’s hands ignite a fire across Loki’s skin as they rake across his body—he can’t imagine what it would feel like without the hinderance of clothes. Actually, he can—and he just wants the real thing, not his thoughts. Not now. His teeth snap and scrape over Thor’s bottom lip, fingers fisting in spun gold hair. Pulling and so pleased when that warrants a low noise in the back of Thor’s throat. Fed into his mouth because they dare not part. Not yet, _not yet_. A small ounce of air is left. Loki presses closer, impossibly _close_ , and commands the kiss—stealing that last precious breath from Thor. Sucks it down like it’s his own and holds it, ignoring that skip in the beating of his heart. They finally break after that, panting, _gasping_ for air. Thor feels dizzy like the whole world is spinning, spinning, spinning. Loki feels like he’s losing his grasp on control.  
  
“Your name… Tell me.” Breathless, warm words that Loki can feel against his lips.  
  
And those same lips curve into a slight smirk, one that means he’s up to no good. He had quite a bit to drink tonight but he’s not _quite_ drunk enough to give away his name. Not _yet_. He knows who Thor is, it’s impossible not to. But, as a precautionary measure, he doesn’t want to give his real name. It could backfire, but he’s ninety-nine percent certain this big, dumb idiot didn’t know he existed before tonight, let alone his name. And it's incredibly rare when Loki is ever wrong. A small laugh sounds in the back of his throat as he leans closer, lips brushing over Thor’s ear. “ _Serrure_.”  
  
It’s nearly purred, the name rolling off his tongue like a fine wine. Thor can’t disguise the shudder of heat it sends streaking down his spine. There’s something about the name that seems off, but with the sound of his voice and in that tone (it feels like fucking _velvet_ caressing over his skin), Thor can’t really raise a question. Instead, he just angles his head, lips attaching to Loki’s throat. Sucking, biting, _worrying_ at the skin to make it a bright red. A promise to return later and make it a violent purple. Murmurs, “Thor,” there against the spot as if he’s claiming it, claiming _him_.  
  
——-  
  
The door is barely kicked closed behind them before hands are grabbing and yanking clothes off. Thor is every bit as toned and sculpted as he felt in the car. It seems impossible that a body like this should exist down here with just mere mortals. Loki is all fine lines and more graceful than anyone Thor has ever laid eyes on. A smooth expanse of pale skin, completely unmarked as if tempting and taunting him to take claim of every inch. Which he plans to and most definitely begins to almost immediately. Leaning down, he leaves a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along the line of Loki’s collarbone. Swipes his tongue in the hollow of his throat.  
  
There’s a faint hint of sweat but the underlying taste of his skin is much more intoxicating. All the while he keeps moving toward the bedroom, but the trajectory is off a little, a misstep in his game as he backs Loki into the wall. No matter—this can do for now.  
  
His lips move down, the hands on his back pressing forward to make sure he doesn’t move away. When his tongue flicks against a nipple, there’s a low hiss from Loki. So he does it again. And again. Enjoying the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The same attention is paid to the other, one hand moving around and his fingers roll and tease the one left behind. Loki squirms under him, hand gripping hard at his shoulder and nails pinching into his skin. Just when the thinks to tell Thor _stop_ , he does. Moves on down further.  
  
Loki’s eyes darken as he watches, a faint flush to his cheeks but tries to get himself in order. There’s something to be said about a man like Thor, on his knees before him with his hands fumbling at the catch of his pants. He feels empowered. Slightly restless. A strange sort of excitement races through his veins, prickles his skin. As much as he wants to just _get on_ with this, a part of him is enjoying the slight struggle. It makes the anticipation that much keener. Makes him feel that much more in control.  
  
Except, that all sort of falls to the wayside when he’s stripped of his clothes completely and Thor wraps a hand around him. Not that he needs much work; already nearly hard and relieved to be free of his pants. His hips buck into the touch, wanting more. Needing it. And Thor provides it, but only for a few short strokes and then he stops. Their eyes meet again, and Loki cansee the desire in Thor’s eyes. Unknowingly it’s completely reflected back. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Thor’s lips quirk into a slight grin, almost like he _heard_ Loki’s thoughts and set to prove just _who_ he is. Then, he’s parting his lips to wrap them around Loki’s cock. Sliding down easy and pulling back slow, cheeks hollowed as he sucks. By the third or fourth bob of his head, Loki threads his fingers in Thor’s hair. Nearly pulling so hard that a heat pricks at the backs of Thor’s eyes. It’s ignored as his gaze turns up to Loki again, again pulling slow off his cock and hums in question. Loki bites on his lip, knees trembling just slightly. But he doesn’t let go and draws his face into a sneer. He will not allow this to get the better of him—not _yet_. His hips roll forward as he pushes at the back of Thor’s head. The pace will be dictated by _him_ , not by Thor.  
  
Perhaps that was the plan all along—except not really, Thor isn’t that devious or smart to create plans like this. He follows as guided; the flat of his tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, teeth just grazing the skin. This isn’t a finely crafted skill he holds, but he’s always confident in his actions. Even more so now. He wants this, wants his mouth to be fucked so that he’ll still feel it tomorrow. A battle wound—proof that this happened. Loki hadn’t planned for him to be _decent_ at this, hadn’t planned for those sort of breathless, wanton noises to be drawn from him. Embarrassing, really, that he can’t control himself and allows the crack in his veneer to show through. Whereas he would use that to his advantage, he has a feeling Thor won’t. Not like _he_ would. A fleeting feeling to exploit that naivety passes over him but it’s gone in an instant when Thor does something utterly unexpected with his tongue. His knees nearlydobuckle that time. That familiar heat pools in the pit of his stomach—he doesn’t want to come yet. But, he doesn’t want Thor to stop, either.  
  
Thor seems to have the same thought. It all happens so fast—Loki’s hands being pulled from Thor’s hair and suddenly being lifted off the ground. A noise of surprise is muffled by a kiss—hungry and imploring. So deep and invasive it steals his breath. Maybe it's payback for how he kissed Thor in the cab. He doesn’t care, he wants this—and it's a frightening thought that he doesn't. Legs wrapped around Thor’s hips more as a self-preservation course of action rather than anything. He doesn’t know when Thor lost his pants, but he feels it now. Rocks himself against him purposely to feel the arousal. That rips a groan from both of them.  
  
Then it feels like he’s falling. Loki’s arms hold tightly around Thor’s neck and he hears him laugh. A light chuckle. A streak of heat strikes down his body, annoyed and suddenly feeling mocked. It’s irrational and he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop it once it’s started. A snappy retort is just there on the tip of his tongue, mouth ready to form the first word, but Thor beats him. Smiles there against his throat, kissing up to his lips. It’s gentle, sweet, nearly innocent and Loki doesn’t know how to respond to something like that. “I’ve got you,” he says against his lips.  
  
A brief moment that facade cracks and the surprise shows on Loki’s face. He hopes Thor didn’t see or doesn’t recognize it and thinks he’s able to fly under the radar this time because nothing is said. But, Thor saw it and chose to just keep it to himself. Says nothing when he sees the smirk slide back over Loki’s lips but feels the gratitude of staying silent in the next kiss. And he’ll gladly take it.  
  
——-  
  
They fit together perfectly. Even Loki couldn’t have expected this. He’s never felt so full and complete and can tell from each thrust of his hips that Thor feels exactly the same. The first time is rushed, it doesn’t take long. They were both too worked up from before. It’s only a matter of time before Loki arches up off the bed, legs wrapped tight around Thor’s waist to draw him in as deep as he can go. Thor thinks he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful than the face Loki makes when he comes.  
  
The second time is slower but no less intense. Thor took his time to explore every inch of Loki’s body. Discover hidden areas that made him squirm or cry out in pleasure. Overly sensitive nipples, the bend of his knee for starters. Left his mark of claiming in various places on his body, knowing that it would be days before some of them disappeared. Normally Loki hates that, but for some reason it makes a strange warmth twist in his stomach. He’s not sure how he feels about that.  
  
He, too, is given the opportunity to learn. Finds he gets nice reactions when his fingers twist in Thor’s hair, nails graze over his scalp. Even better when he’s able to lean in, giving his earlobe a pinch between his teeth. Loki leaves his own marks behind that come in the form of nails raking across Thor’s back, biting a broad shoulder. They’ll fade faster than the angry purple marks that litter his body, but it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow when Thor looks in the mirror, he won’t forget who made them.  
  
The third time, Thor is on his back with Loki seated on his cock. It feels pretty amazing like this and neither one is quiet in their appreciation. Each time they meet, Thor thinks his bed is going to break and Loki thinks he’s going to always feel the ghost of Thor’s grip at his hips. When his orgasm hits, it shakes him down to his core. He comes harder this time than he ever has before. When Thor calls him Serrure instead of Loki, he’s suddenly wishing he didn’t give a fake name. There’s a strange tug, this time at his heart, and it's something he refuses to acknowledge as regret.  
  
Time number four is in the shower. The water makes their skin slick, easily sliding against each other. Loki’s hands are braced against the cool tiles of the wall and Thor is pressed flush against him, cock buried fully inside and nearly pulsing with every heartbeat. It’s hard and fast, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through their ears. Loki bites his lip hard, so much that he tastes blood at one point. But he’s been too vocal, too appreciative of what Thor is doing to his body. He doesn’t like this loss of control, so he tries to reign it in, keep it bottled up. It doesn’t work, though. Even the smallest sound Thor can hear. A kiss is pressed to his shoulder, moving up his neck. Just behind his ear. Thor’s drawl, made thicker with heat and lust rumbles, shaking down his body like a touch. “Let go. Let me hear you.”  
  
He’s powerless to resist. So, does let go. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack as another orgasm rocks him to his toes. He’s losing against Thor and drowning fast. But can’t seem to stop.  
  
The fifth time they’re back in the bed. Rather than leaving like he should have after the shower, he stayed. Somehow let Thor talk him into getting back in bed.Spending the night had been brought up, but Loki knows he can’t do that. He said yes, but he’ll be gone before the sun rises. They had been talking, what about—it doesn’t matter. Thor just wanted to hear his voice and Loki likes talking about himself when he knows someone's listening.  
  
They had laid together, Loki’s back to Thor’s chest, settling into each other comfortably. While Loki spoke, Thor’s hand stroked over his skin. Revering his body like it was something sacred. Loki did what he could to pretend it wasn’t having any effect, but couldn’t hide the hitches of breath or soft noises of pleasure each time he passed over a sensitive spot. It wasn’t much longer before he felt Thor’s _interest_  make itself known.  
  
Thor slipped inside him again, hips rolling in a slow, easy pace. He wanted Loki to keep talking, but he found it a little difficult. Instead he turned slightly, reaching back to touch him. Angling his head and asking (no, _demanding_ ) to be kissed. And Thor readily gave it to him, didn’t stop until they both could breathe no more. Their peak was slowly reached this time but didn’t make it any less passionate. Intense. Everything Loki never thought he would get.  
  
Afterward, they lay there. Spent and still connected. Thor was too tired to move and Loki still had a slight hold at his hip. As if he didn’t really want him to pull out. And he didn’t, he liked that feeling of being filled. For once in his life he felt complete. The implications of this were astoundingly ridiculous and he didn’t want to think about it. Instead he let Thor curl his arm around him, hold him impossibly close. There was nothing wrong in enjoying himself once in a while. Indulging in feelings he never let himself feel or even think about.  
  
This was dangerous.  
  
Thor buries his nose in jet black hair. It tickles against his skin when he takes a deep breath. It smells like _his_ shampoo. He likes that. Probably murmurs something to that effect without even realizing. And maybe that’s why Loki’s calling him an idiot. But he’s not moving and that’s the important part.  
  
Thor can feel the sleep curling around his bones—he can’t remember the last time he was ever _so_ active. _If_ he ever was before. What he does know is that he’s never been so satisfied. Which is something that speaks for itself, considering he’s the type to never be satisfied. It’s that thought he has in his mind as he drifts off to sleep.  
  
What he doesn't know is that Loki feels the same. He'll never know if Loki has anything to say about it—and he would have _plenty_. But for now he'll stay tucked against the solid body behind him, ignoring all his rational thoughts to flee.  
  
——-  
  
When Thor wakes late the following afternoon, he’s not surprised to find the bed empty. He had known in the back of his mind, even while he was that drunk, that Loki wouldn’t be there. He tries to tell himself it’s alright, that it doesn’t matter. Chalk it up to one fucking amazing one night stand. Except he knows he’s going to try and find him again. In fact, he’s already thinking of ways to go about this when he shifts, raising an arm to brush the hair out of his face.  
  
But stops when something catches his eye. There, scrawled on his forearm in black permanent marker is a phone number. And a name. “Loki,” he says, unable to wipe the smile off his lips. Of course. Now he remembers exactly where he’s seen him on campus. There’s something else written there just below his name that makes Thor’s grin cut a little deeper, shine a bit brighter. He’s not even going to wait to try and play this cool and rolls out of bed to find his phone. This opportunity isn’t going to slip by him so easily.  
  
——-  
  
 _You’ve earned it._


End file.
